mangled and Torn but not Broken
by grantairethedrunkard22
Summary: Grantaire feels cast out. His bond with his friends seems shredded, especially his bond with enjolras. until something that no one would expect can possibly pull them back together.
1. Chapter 1

Grantaire was walking home from the cafe by himself that night. He had really outdone himself this time. He tried to ignore the pounding in his head, and the voices of his friends yelling at him. A tear rolled down his cheek. He wiped it away, and collapsed on the side of the road, drifting into a drunken slumber.

The image of the evenings events flashed through his mind. "_Get out you worthless drunkard" _Enjolras' words didn't seem to hurt, he was so used to them. _"There you go! Ruining everything once again!" _Combferre's words stung like the touch of ice to the skin. _"He didn't mean to!" _The usually small and unheard voice of Jehan rang through the cafe, and it brought warmth to the drunkard. Then came the words that broke his heart, the words that sent daggers into his heart, the words that shattered his heart into a million pieces. "YOU LAZY, WORTHLESS, GOOD FOR NOTHING DRUNKARD! I DON'T SEE WHY YOU EVEN COME TO THESE MEETINGS! I MEAN, WHAT'S THE POINT? BECAUSE YOU OBVIOUSLY DON'T BELIEVE IN ANYTHING!" Those words, made his heart stop, as he cowered beneath his noble leader, his voice weak and timid, "I believe in you" with that he grabbed his bottle and ran out, leaving Enjolras in the center of the Amis, with his eyes wide open, still trying to make sense of what had happened. He had hoped to find refuge in the night. Something to pull him away from it all. And that little spot on the side of the street seemed perfect.

_Seemed._

* * *

_I know this was a short chapter but it's only the beginning, pretty much the prologue. There will be much more to come._


	2. Chapter 2

Grantaire had been asleep on the side of the road for 2 hours now, shaking, disturbed by the images of his childhood.

_His fathers hand lowered quickly, making contact with Grantaire's face. The boy cowered, shaking in the corner._

_"You really did it this time!" His father's voice boomed._

_"I-I didn't mean to," The boy shivered, clutching his cheek._

_"I told you to stay inside! You should have been working! Not playing with that silly rich boy!"_

_"But father! He's my friend!" Grantiare said, seeing the top of the blond head and those blue eyes appear in the window._

_"I don't care! You should be working! That firewood isn't going to chop itself up and float inside! Where is your friend? I'm gonna make him regret ever meeting you!"_

_"NO father!" Grantaire grabbed his father"s coat and was flung against the wall. "Please! Don't' hurt him! Do what you wish to me!"_

_His father's twisted smile made him cower and his father pulled out his belt. "Now little Nic, you've really done it this time." His father lifted his shirt and lashed his belt on the boys back. 10 times. He brought down his belt upon Grantaire's back 10 times. The boy felt the blood rushing from his back and with each strike he whimpered in pain, hot, salty tears streamed down his cheeks. His father pulled back his belt, now coated in a glossy red, and he put it back on. Grantaire saw the blue eyes in the window were filled with tears, but the tears wouldn't fall from his eyes. The blond head disappeared and Grantaire looked up to the glare of his father._

_"NOW GO!" His father boomed, "Go out and chop up the wood and bring it in."_

_"But father! It's cold and I haven't got a coat!" the boy pleaded_

_"Do you think I care? Now get out!" His father walked away, probably to go beat his mother. Grantaire pulled his shirt down, the fabric collided with the cuts and he was met with a burning pain. The blood soaked through his shirt, turning the white, dirt streaked shirt a deep red. He hurried outside and the winter wind nipped at his cheeks. He walked to the wood and grabbed his ax. He tried to chop the wood but dropped the ax in pain and fell into the snow. The cool snow felt good on his cuts, and the snow around him began turning red. The blond face from the window appeared above him. _

_"Grantaire?" He said in a small voice._

_"Hello Enjolras" Grantaire tried to smile but he winced as he felt his cuts sting._

_"I'm so sorry Grantaire! I had no idea this would happen if you came with us."_

_"Don't be sorry, I am fine." Grantaire winced again._

_"No you are not, you need help, I can take you to Joly, his father is a doctor who has helped us in the past." Enjolras tried to help Grantaire up_

_"I can't, if I don't get this wood to my father he will only hurt me more."_

_"I will chop up the wood for you then you can take it in and then I will take you to Joly's father._

_"Thank yo-" Grantaire began but he drifted into a dark sleep, full of pain and tears. When he awoke Enjolras was looking down at him and Joly was talking with his father. _

_"Grantaire! You're awake!" Enjolras smiled_

_"Yes, it appears I am, but what about the wood? And my father!?" The boy became worried._

_"Don't worry," Enjolras was calm and that eased Grantaire. "I chopped up the wood and I brought it to your father, he asked where you were and I told him I took you to a doctor and I paid for it. He slapped me but I ran away before he could do anymore." Enjolras sighed, acting like it was nothing. Grantaire, looked like he was about to burst._

_"He hurt you!? I can't believe him!" Tears streamed down the boy's face._

_"I'm alright though, and so are you, and that's all that matters." The smiling face of the boy with blond hair began to fade, and it was replaced with the worried face of the now grown up Enjolras._

"Grantaire?" He shook the drunkard lightly. "R wake up" Grantaire opened his eyes.

"Hey enj."

"My God Grantaire! Do you ever listen? I can't believe you" Enjolras marched down the street angrily, but slowly.

"I'm fine. You don't even care about me," Grantaire murmured, then stood by himself and stumbled off to cross the street, though he wasn't making much progress. Enjolras sped up, he heard hooves. He stopped, unsure. Grantaire continued to slowly zigzag across the road, he had now made it to the middle. The hooves got louder and Enjolras continued walking, thinking that it was nothing. A carriage was speeding down the road, and Grantaire was oblivious to it, he had now paused in the middle of the road, thinking. Grantaire saw the carriage as it was 2 feet away from him, he tried to run but just fell over making a line with his body across the narrow street. Enjolras heard a gasp escape the drunkards lips and he turned to watch a scene accompanied with a series of cracks, moans and bumps. The carriage flew by him and he ran to Grantaire. The cynic lay in the road, face down, the hoof prints and wheel marks evident on his clothes. His right leg bent oddly and his left arm was at a similar angle. Blood poured from his head and his back, near the tips of many hoof prints. Enjolras felt a tear but he would not release it, he would not break his marble facade. He grasped Grantaire"s hand and felt for a pulse. A relieved sigh went through his body when he found a faint one. Enjolras rolled the drunk onto his back so that he could pick him up and a small cry escaped the cynic's lips. Gathering his strength Enjolras picked up the bigger man and was surprised at his weight. He ran like he had never run before, desperately, in a race with fate. He hated hospitals, but he knew more damage was done than just Joly could fix.

He sprinted into the hospital and walked to a woman who was writing things down at a desk.

"Mademoiselle, help! Quickly! My friend! He's been run over by a carriage, he's barely alive! He needs a doctor fast!" The urgency in his voice was apparent and the lady called over a doctor.

"Doctor Richard, take this man to a room immediately" The doctor took Grantaire from Enjolras and walked down a hall. When Enjolras tried to follow he was blocked by the woman.

"No visitors until the doctor has allowed it, you will just have to wait." Enjolras sighed but obeyed. He needed the rest of the Amis there, but he was afraid of leaving and missing something important with Grantaire.

After 2 uneventful hours of waiting he decided that he would run to Bahorel and Feuilly's shared apartment. It was the closest one to the hospital. He would tell them to get everyone else and he would get back to the hospital as fast as he could. He was about to run out when Doctor Richard appeared in the doorway to the visiting room. "Family of Monsieur Nicolas Grantaire?" he said.

"That would be me, well, he has no family, but I am his closest friend."

"Ah, we have some very urgent news on your friend." Enjolras' heart stopped.


	3. Chapter 3

Enjolras was frozen, he couldn't figure out what to say. "Y-yes?" he asked.

"Well," Doctor Richard sighed, he could tell that this man cared about Grantaire and he didn't want to have to tell him the news. "Your friend Nicholas, is barely alive, you got him here just in time." He smiled trying to lighten the mood. "Sadly, he has fractured his skull, broken 3 ribs, badly broken his arm and leg and we believe that his lung has been ruptured. We have to perform surgery if he wants to live. He has lost a lot of blood and may lose more during the procedure so you must be prepared for the worst."

"Y-yes sir," Enjolras said, those words pounded in his head. Prepare for the worst. He didn't want to, he didn't want this to happen. Then he realized that Doctor Richard was still standing there. "One more thing Monsieur, I will need you to give us his medical information, we cannot perform the surgery until we have it and time is of the essence."

"Of course," said Enjolras, trying to be dignified, he took the forms that the doctor gave him. As he sat staring at them he realised how little he knew about the drunkard. He knew his allergies, he knew his full name, he then came upon something he didn't know. His birthday, he knew his age, but after all their years of being friends he had never learned his birthday, never given him a birthday gift, never wished him a happy birthday. Courfeyrac would know, they were good friends. He now more than ever needed the Amis. He had to get the forms filled out as fast as he could, but he needed Courfeyrac to get Grantaire's birthday. He walked to the woman at the desk. "Excuse me Madame, but I don't seem to know some of this information about my friend, but I know someone who does, it is only his birthday, could the doctor perform the surgery without that and I can get it as soon as possible."

"Hmm." the woman looked over the papers, "I will give these to the doctor, when you get his birthday come and tell me." she told him then stood with the papers and left down the hall. Enjolras didn't waste a second, he sprinted out the door of the hospital and to Bahorel and Feuilly's apartment. When he reached the small building he sprinted to their apartment on the second floor. He knocked frantically and thankfully Feuilly came quickly.

"Enjolras? What are you doing here? You look terrible, please come in." Feulliy gestured inside and Bahorel came into sight.

"Can't, no time." Enjolras said, out of breath. "Grantaire's been hurt, he was run over, get the rest of the Amis! I have to get back to Grantaire." Before Feuilly could react Enjolras was gone. Feuilly and Bahorel exchanged nervous glances before both sprinting in different directions. They gathered the Amis as fast as they could, half with Feuilly and half with Bahorel.

While Feuilly and Bahorel were getting the Amis, Enjolras sat in the small room, and he began to clear his head. It was all his fault! If he hadn't gotten so mad at Grantaire and turned his back on him maybe they wouldn't even be in this mess in the first place. But then again, he had asked Grantaire countless times to stop drinking and be careful and he didn't listen, so in a way it was the drunkard's own fault that he was in this mess. But he had turned his back on one of his closest friends. His internal debate came to a hault when the Amis all ran in, out of breath and weary-looking. Enjolras smiled a bit, he was relieved to see them. They all rushed to him, no one was sure what to say. "What happened?" asked Jehan, everyone knew that he was particularly good friends with the drunkard and cared for him deeply. "He fell in the street when he was drunk and got run over by a carriage, he has a few broken ribs, a broken arm and leg, a fractured skull and a ruptured stomach. He's in surgery right now but the doctor said to. . . expect. . .the worst" Enjolras had to force those last words out, and he was doing all that he could so not to break his marble facade. Everyone stood in shock, but Jehan once again broke the silence. "We have to stay positive, Grantaire is strong, he will make it out alive." Courfeyrac put a gentle hand on the poets shoulder, a shiny tear rode down his cheek, "I pray you're right," he smiled a little and Jehan buried himself in Courfeyrac's arms. The rest of the Amis found chairs, or spots on the ground. The night drew on and most of the Amis fell asleep, most of them. Two lay awake, unable to sleep. Jehan sat, protected in Courfeyrac's arms. It was warm and calm, the poet felt at ease, feeling Courfeyrac's steady breaths, but he couldn't bear to close his eyes and drift off. He was tired, but his mind was spinning. He was worried, yes, but also curious. Enjolras had told them what the doctor said, but not what caused the injuries. Different scenarios flashed through his overly creative mind. He saw in his mind, a horse rearing up, and then trampling down on the poor cynic. He also saw the drunkard walking down the street swerving left and right, as a carriage that had just become disconnected from it's horses. Being his drunken self, Grantaire didn't have the time to get out of the way. But his favorite scenario, being the romantic that he is, began, with Enjolras in the street,_ he dropped one of the papers from the meeting that night, as he bent to pick it up, a carriage turned the corner and Grantaire was watching. Even when drunk, he still would do all that he could to protect his noble leader. Enjolras looked up, eyes wide, the paper fell from his hand. Right before the carriage collided with Enjolras Grantaire jumped into the street, shoving Enjolras onto the curb and absorbing the shock with his own body. Enjolras ran to the drunk, amazed at what he did for him and ran him to the hospital._ After thinking about this one Jehan smiled. He knew how much the drunkard longed for Enjolras' approval and if this didn't get it, who knows what would. He was praying that the last scenario was the case. He sat, washed up in worry, listening to Courfeyrac's soft heartbeat. He let that soft, warm beat lull him into a dreamless sleep.

Enjolras sat in a chair, with his hands on his knees, he looked so weak. _Weak._ It was a word none of the Amis would ever use to describe their noble leader, yet there he was, fragile and scared. Thoughts raced through his mind, his internal debate resumed. Two sides of him battled vigorously, one would lash out an argument before the other could finish their own. He wanted to think that it wasn't his fault, he didn't want to be to blame for this, but the realist in him, which he had assumed that he picked up from Grantaire, told him otherwise. His blond hair had become unruly, and his face had become pale. He looked at all his sleeping friends and let a tear slide down his cheek. He had broken his marble facade, but it would not happen again. He wiped the tear away, ignoring his previous thoughts and looked at his friends once more. At least no one saw that. He thought. His mind became calmer as he began to drift away, out of the stress, his mind beginning to become at ease. Sleep seemed so good suddenly, it seemed like an escape, and he was in the mood for one at the moment. He looked at his friends once more, all of whom were fast asleep, even Jehan, whom he had noticed, thinking earlier. Sleep seemed so welcoming. He slowly began to drift, slowly, into the darkness. He awoke hours later, he saw his friends looking down at him, sadness filled their eyes. "What happened?" Enjolras looked up at Jehan, his face was streaked with tears, his normally neat braid was loose and messy. "What happened?" Enjolras repeated nervously. Jehan spoke softly and sorrowfully, "Grantaire is dead."


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

_Warning: This chapter may cause emotional damage, it killed me to write. But anyway, by the end things get better so if you can't take it just skip to the end._

Enjolras looked at his friends in disbelief._ Dead. He couldn't be dead, he couldn't. It just wasn't possible_. Jehan's face had lost its vibrancy and Courfeyrac's bright smile was missing. Combferre's glassed were falling down on his nose and he didn't bother to push them up as he always did. Bahorel had his head in his hands in a chair in the corner of the room and not far away was Joly who was crying into the chest of Bousette. Enjolras couldn't speak. He couldn't move. He could only do one thing.

Enjolras, for the first time in forever, broke the marble. The Amis watched as the marble cracked and split, the facade faded away. Enjolras couldn't breathe, the world was spinning and he brought his knees to his chest and just sat there, he let the tears flow and he let everything out. None of the Amis had ever seen Enjolras in this state and no one knew what to do about it honestly. Combferre put a gentle comforting hand on the revolutionary's shoulder and sat next to him. He wrapped his arms around him and felt the other man's body relax at his touch. "I-I-It's all my fault 'ferre." The words shattered Enjolras' heart to say, but he had to get them out.

"Shh, don't say that," Combferre was fighting a battle he had already lost practically.

"If I had just stayed with him, if I had just helped him home, or at least got him across the street, this would never have happened. I should never have shut him out like that." Enjolras could feel daggers in his heart as he spoke. Combferre opened his mouth to speak but was cut off by Doctor Richard. "Family and friends of Monsieur Nicholas Grantaire?" The Amis stood, Enjolras shoved his way to the front of the group.

"He's not really dead is he?" The blond stuttered, tears falling from his big blue eyes. The doctor did not want to answer that.

"I'm afraid he is, but I will allow you to go and see the body, and decided what you would like to do with it. The Amis solemnly nodded and followed Doctor Richard down the hall and to the small room where on the bed, lay the still and lifeless body.

Enjolras ran to the deceased drunkard's side, "I am so, so, so, so, so sorry, I should have never let this happen to you!" He wished for a response, he prayed for a miracle, but no such thing came.

Enjolras couldn't believe that the man lying on the bed was the same man who had so much life in his now cold, dead, blue eyes, that were loosing their color. He couldn't believe that the lifeless man on the bed was the same man that chugged bottle after bottle of wine with a smile during their meetings. He couldn't believe that that sweet, cynical voice was now forever silenced.

But then Enjolras noticed something. The body that lay in from of him had no bloody mark across its forehead and there seemed to be no cuts and bruises. He looked nothing like the man that Enjolras had carried to the hospital. He was Grantaire, yes, but he wasn't. Enjolras wondered how this could be true. The lifeless man in front of him had Grantaire's crystal clear blue eyes, and his soft curly black hair, but the fact that there were no injuries made no sense. Enjolras looked at his friends, none of them seemed to notice this. In fact, none of his friends were moving. Everyone was frozen in time it seemed. A tear was frozen in its tracks on its way down Jehan's face. Courfeyrac's mouth was open, he was going to say something, but the words were stuck in his throat.

Suddenly, the young revolutionary began to feel dizzy, the world began to fade. He looked around, there was a vast darkness, and he saw a figure appear as the figure's face became more visible he saw that it was Grantaire, but he didn't seem like the light-hearted, cynical drunkard that he knew. It looked like a man with eyes full of hatred and anger. Enjolras began to run to him, an arm outstretched, fear shone in his eyes. Enjolras ran as fast as he could, but he wouldn't go anywhere, he was suspended in the air, He began to speak, but nothing came out. The figure that seemed to be his friend spoke. "This is your fault! All your fault!" He began to get angry. "You really are cold, hard marble, with no heart, no emotion!" The words stung, they burned, they punctured Enjolras' heart, his cold marble heart, and something happened. Enjolras no longer felt the need to hold up a marble facade, he no longer felt the need to never show love, never show pain. He looked into the eyes of the figure and didn't see soft blue eyes, but red, burning red eyes that stared into his soul, then Enjolras began to cry, his friend was gone and he couldn't do anything about it. Then as Enjolras cried, the figure's eyes grew to the soft blue that Enjolras knew, it was as if his tears were putting out the flames of rage in his friend's eyes. Then as those eyes became blue again, they closed and the man collapsed on the ground. Finally Enjolras was able to speak, he screamed out to his friend, he wanted to run to him, he wanted to hold him in his arms and tell him that everything would be ok, he wanted to say sorry and he wanted to have that drunkard laughing and teasing him. Suddenly, the dark began to peel away and he could see the waiting room of the hospital he had been sitting in. He saw Combferre's worried face above his. "Thank God you are awake! You have been crying and screaming in you sleep, you must have had a horrible nightmare."

"A dream. . . It was all a dream." Enjolras' face dropped, "GRANTAIRE!" He yelled, his worry was apparent.

"We haven't heard anything more about him since we all fell asleep." Combferre patted his friend's back, he saw the fear and worry in his eyes. Enjolras seemed relieved though. He told Combferre his dream and his friend listened intently, wiping his friends tears as he went, comforting him when he thought he couldn't say any more. When Enjolras finished Comberre shakily began to speak, he himself had been partially traumatized by only hearing the dream. He held his friend, who was shaking with each sob. "But it wasn't real, and Nic is ok, he will pull through," His voice was not nearly as calm and collected as he had hoped it would be.

"But it seemed so real and he hated me so much, what if he never forgives me?"

"He will, Enjolras, do you know how much that man loves you?"

"We're best friends." Enjolras was stating, in his mind, the obvious. Combferre shook his head.

"No Enj, real love, he has loved you since we were only 10 and we all first met. He told me a few years ago, and he made me promise never to tell anyone, though everyone in the Amis could figure it out, well, everyone but you." Enjolras couldn't speak, he couldn't see how he could be so blind. Combferre sighed, "When he told me," It seemed the medical student was forcing the words out of his mouth. "He was standing on the edge of a bridge, he was going to jump."

"Why on Earth would he do that!" Enjolras couldn't believe that no one told him this.

"Because, you don't remember? That's strange. You told him to get out and never come back, you told him he was worthless and he would never be wanted by anyone. He ran out and I followed him because I knew this wouldn't end well. I found him standing on the bridge, using a shard of glass to make marks in his arms, and I knew they said something, I just didn't know what, he finished and dropped the shard off the edge of the bridge, then he prepared to jump. Right in time I grabbed the back of his shirt and pulled him down. I looked at his arm and the marks spelled out 'For my Apollo' Then he told me everything" Combferre sighed and looked at his shaking friend. The tears were pouring out of Enjolras' eyes and he was whispering something inaudible to himself. "It's ok, he will be fine." Comferre wrapped his arms around his blond friend and wished for the best.


	5. Chapter 5

The waiting seemed like an eternity, but finally a nurse came down the hall and called the Amis over. Jehan looked at Enjolras, he looked horrible, he was sweating and his golden curls were all over the place, his marble facade was broken, tears streaked his cheeks. It scarred Jehan to see everyone like this, even himself, his boyfriend, Courfeyrac, was a complete mess and resisted all of Jehan's urges to fix him. The nurse did not look happy and Jehan did not like it. Enjolras opened his mouth slowly to speak, "Where is Doctor Richard? Is Grantaire okay?" The nurse paused, the shaking in his voice made her want to run out the door, she could tell that he cared a lot about him, and it would hurt her to bring them the news. "Well?" asked Jehan nervously. The nurse swallowed nervously and Enjolras whimpered, "He's not d-dead is he?" he asked, praying for a no. "Do not worry, your friend is alive, but just barely, something went wrong in the surgery and though his lung has been repaired, we have found dangerously high amounts of alcohol in his blood, and he has alcohol poisoning, it is highly possible that he could go into a coma, and during the coma he could just. . ." the words pained her to say but she continued "pass away" A whimper escaped the lips of Enjolras and Jehan hid away in the arms of Courfeyrac. The pained looks on the men's faces made her want to lie, to tell them that their friend would be ok, but she didn't want to get their hopes up then crush their spirits. "I will allow one of you to go in and see him, but you won't have much time, because Doctor Richard is preparing to take some blood samples and see if he can do anything to help your friend. So who would like to see him?" It was unanimous, and Combeferre shoved Enjolras towards the nurse. "I will." Enjolras told her. She smiled warmly and led him down the hall. For Enjolras, the 2 minute walk seemed like an eternity, he didn't know what to expect, he was afraid. He ran a shaking hand through his blond curls and let out a nervous sigh. The nurse opened the door and Enjolras could not enter. The sight of his friend held him back.

Grantaire lay on the bed, asleep, the wheezing in his breath was evident. His skin was a ghostly pale. His chest was wrapped in a bloodstained cloth, no doubt where they had cut him open to repair his lung. Only a few small dark curls poked out from underneath a tightly wrapped bandage around his head, a large red splotch that made Enjolras uneasy marked the bandage. His left arm and leg were covered in white casts. His face was covered in sweat and his eyes were clenched shut in pain. Enjolras knelt by his friend and took his hand, trying to hold back his sobs. He whispered gently to his friend, as if he was worried that his voice being too loud would put the man in pain. Doctor Richard walked behind the young revolutionary and put a hand on his shoulder, "I must run some tests and see what can be done. In about an hour I will tell you the results and depending on the results I may or may not allow two more people to visit. But for now I must ask you to wait outside. The blond nodded and released his friends hand. He walked out to his friends and was swarmed. Questions surrounded him, his head was spinning and he needed to sit down. Combeferre saw the confusion in his friend's eyes and backed him away from the group and sat him down. And Enjolras was able to clear his head and tell him everything, everything he saw in the room, everything going through his head, he let it all escape. All of his feelings, all of his pent up thoughts, and everyone just listened. Combeferre patted his back and Jehan watched worriedly. That hour was the longest hour of Enjolras' life, the waiting was torturous, it murdered his mind, his thoughts flew everywhere. What could happen to R, could he die? No. He couldn't, he wouldn't let that happen. Enjolras' mind was unraveling, it was coming undone. He was shaking and his face was becoming just as pale as his friend, lying on the bed. He closed his eyes, all he could see was Grantaire's face, the crimson blood rushing out of his head, the shirt which became soaked in blood, the hoofprints and the blood that emerged from them. He opened his eyes and buried his head in his hands, he let the tears fall out.

Jehan was crying, every sob pushed a small flower closer and closer to falling. He couldn't believe what had happened, he couldn't grasp it. He could lose his best friend forever, and he would not stand for it. He pulled away from Courfeyrac and approached Enjolras. He swallowed deeply and gathered his courage. He clenched his fists tight and hit Enjolras in the gut. He was not strong enough to actually hurt the blond, but he left an impression. He looked Enjolras straight in the eye, trying not to let the tears in his eyes cascade down his cheeks until he had finished. "I thought we were supposed to watch out for eachother, care for each other in this group, this family, but I guess not." As the little poet turned, he allowed the tears to leave his eyes as he buried his face into Courfeyrac's warm embrace.

Enjolras sat down in shock. Jehan's words stung,_ family_, it reminded Enjolras that Grantaire had no family, only an abusive father whom he ran away from, never to see again. It wasn't like his father would have cared if he died, he only wanted Grantaire as a slave, never wanted him as his own son. Enjolras remebered that day, after the first meeting Grantaire had attended, they were only ten, but he could remember following Grantaire home and watching what his father had done to him, watching Grantaire take an extra beating for him. He could remember the sting when he stood up to Grantaire's father and was hit for it. He had told Grantaire he brought in the wood and got out, there was no way he would actually tell him what he had done.

_Enjolras chopped up the wood quickly and brought it into the small house. He was greeted by a tall man with pale skin and dark greasy hair. "What are you doing here!? Where the hell is Nicholas!? He should have been the one bringing that wood in, he shouldn't have made his stupid friend do it!" The blond child dropped the wood on the ground, anger shone in his deep blue eyes._

_"In case you were wondering about your son's well-being, he is at my friends house being tended to by a doctor because he passed out because you hurt him so horribly! He could have died if I wasn't there! I think you should start to treat your son like you care about him instead of using him as a slave! You're a horrible parent and your son deserves better!" The man's black eyes overshadowed the light in the childs blue ones and they seemed to show him everything he had ever feared, everything that would haunt him in the years to come. The man's loud voice was now hushed and intense. "You don't tell me how to raise my child, I may do what I wish with him and you can't do anything to stop me." A wicked smile crept on to the man's face but even at a young age, Enjolras would always stand tall, he would not crack the marble. He stamped his foot down on the older man's foot and ran for the door. But the man grabbed him by his shirt and pinned him to the wall. 3 times he struck the child's cheek before using his belt to lash his back twice. The scared child did not show his fear but ran off as fast as he could once he had escaped the man's iron grip. _

_Enjolras did not even notice a tear fall down his cheek as he_ recollected the events of that day. Only then had he realized that him, the Amis, were Grantaire's only family, and they ahd stabbed him in the back. He wondered, would Grantaire ever trust him again the way he used to? He was so consumed in thought that he almost didn't see Doctor Richard waiting. His face was solemn, Enjolras swallowed his tears, he tried to be strong. He approached the doctor and waited for him to speak. "I am extremely sorry for the delay of an extra hour, but somethig went horribly wrong with your friend, he has gone into a coma, we are unsure of what we can do based on the tests, but all we know is he will not wake up until we run some secondary tests."


End file.
